Instructions for Dancing
by thestairwell
Summary: A series of drabbles and one shots written for Klaine Week 2013, seemingly unconnected but tracing Kurt and Blaine's relationship from friendship through the rest of their lives. (Early Klaine, Skank/Badboy AU, Fairytale AU, Naughty&Nice, Anniversary, Wedding, Reunion.)
1. Day One

**Notes:** And so begins Klaine Week 2013!

I'll be writing something every day. (Last year, I only managed two!) If you want to know more about Klaine Week, visit [klaineweek2013 dot tumblr dot com]. I absolutely love the Klaine fandom – it's such a great community to belong to, even if you're relatively late to the game like I was (am?). If you're struggling to find the Tumblr page, essentially, in celebration of the anniversary of Original Song, the fandom has a different theme each day this week to create something – anything, be it fic, art, video, graphic, whatever! – and then share it. I highly encourage everyone to go and check out the Tumblr and to give as much support to everyone they can! (And if you don't have a Tumblr but still want to take part, you can share on the Tumblr page via the submit box.)

Because I'm a complete sap who loves order and patterns, I've also decided on an extra theme linking all my submissions this week together: a tracing of sorts through Kurt and Blaine's life together. This should be quite obvious as the week goes on but I'll explain in a final note on Sunday just in case. :)

The M-rating is **only** accurate for Day 4/Thursday, although tomorrow will have plenty of innuendo (probably. I haven't written it yet, haha). I'll remind again when it comes to Thursday for anyone who will want to skip over it (it'll be my first foray into PWP). For today, please excuse the fact that I've never seen _Desperate Housewives_.

The title for the Week comes from _Book of Love_ by Peter Gabriel.

* * *

**DAY ONE: EARLY KLAINE**

_In which Blaine comes over to Kurt's house for their first Desperate Housewives marathon._

"Finn Hudson, you put down those cookies right now!" Kurt shrieks, slapping the back of Finn's hand for good measure. The taller boy drops the double-chocolate-mint cookie back on the plate and draws his hand to his chest with a pout. Kurt rolls his eyes. "Stop making that face. You can have whatever's leftover when Blaine goes home."

"Like anyone would be dumb enough not to eat everything you cook," Finn says mournfully. Kurt allows himself a moment to preen.

"Regardless, the platters are for Blaine and me to share later."

"Fine."

Finn ambles over to the refrigerator and starts rooting around in there for a snack. Kurt considers fixing something quickly for him, or maybe shooing him from the kitchen entirely, but he has far too many things to concern himself over before Blaine arrives and barely enough time in which to complete it. He fixes the cookies on the plate, makes sure the fruit and cheese trays are perfectly in order, and then gives Finn very strict instructions to use a plate and eat either at the table or in his room and not to get crumbs _anywhere_ on pain of castration. It's been Kurt's go-to threat since Finn watched _Hard_ _Candy_ a few weeks ago, and it hasn't failed so far.

Kurt covers the food with clingfilm to keep it from drying out and then, with that sorted, consults his iPhone for the remainder of his list.

When Kurt found out that Blaine was as much a fan of awful television as himself, he had been over the moon, and they'd decided to have a _Desperate Housewives_ marathon at Kurt's house in preparation for the restart of the season after the Christmas hiatus. Kurt had then spent three days agonising over whether to host in the living room – where Blaine would likely be less suspicious, but Kurt knew his dad would find an excuse to poke his head in every five minutes and, well, Kurt really didn't want to share – or his bedroom – where things could get potentially very awkward because they were alone, but Blaine would probably be able to relax more and _they'd be alone_. In the end, Kurt's selfishness had tipped the scales, and because they weren't dating, his dad would be able to do little more than raise his eyebrows a little.

But then that had only left him with six days to prepare, and what with the commute to Dalton and the workload and hanging out with his family and his old friends and his new friends, there hadn't been a lot of time to prepare, and now Kurt has a mere three hours and twelve minutes to make sure everything is perfect so Blaine isn't scared off and Kurt will still maybe, hopefully be able to date him one day.

Providing that Blaine doesn't arrive early, as he tends to; and that his family behaves once he's here.

He spends thirty minutes making sure his glorified en suite bathroom is spotless and well-stocked, another twenty doing the same for the main bathroom, and then informs his family that they're only to use the toilet through the main bedroom or else make sure not to touch anything.

Burt and Carole both give him knowing, amused looks which make Kurt blush, but he's got too much to do to dwell – there's vacuuming the living room and the entrance and the stairs, polishing the windows and mirrors, approving all the pictures on display and making sure the rest are hidden out of sight, cleaning his room and then locking the door to Finn's, all the while repeatedly checking the food to make sure his stepbrother hasn't eaten anything anyway and leaving enough time to make himself look fabulous afterwards.

"This is an awful lot of trouble to go through for 'just friends'," Burt teases.

"There's nothing wrong with presenting a clean house to a guest," Kurt snipes back. "Oh, my god, take your feet off the table! Your footrest is right there! We don't live in a barn, Dad!"

Burt chuckles an insincere, "Sorry, kid," as he pulls out the footrest and drops his feet onto it.

Miraculously, Kurt has the house, himself, their refreshments and his television ready in time, and has managed to wrangle promises of good behaviour from his family: the doorbell rings just as Kurt's throwing away the last of the clingfilm.

"I'll get it!" he trills, ignoring his dad and Carole's chuckles as he darts to the door. There's a foggy glass window in it so Kurt can't really take a moment to calm his sudden nerves – after all, it's not like he hasn't hung out with Blaine alone before, and they've gone to the theatre and movies tons of times, but this is at _Kurt's house_ and Blaine's never _really_ met his family before and this just seems like a really huge step towards being boyfriends.

He opens the door to a Blaine who is wearing the most adorable plaid tie ever, and wonderfully tailored skinny jeans, and a gorgeous cardigan which looks similar to something Kurt saw in _Vogue_ a few months ago, and who is holding a small bouquet of pink and yellow tulips surrounded by green leaves.

"Hi," Kurt breathes out – swoons, really, but he'll never admit it, except he's never gotten flowers before from _anyone_.

"Hey." Blaine's grin is just a touch bashful as he holds out the flowers. "I got these for you – I hope that's okay."

"It's more than okay," Kurt says. He realises he's still swooning a little and pinches his wrist behind the bouquet to snap out of it. "Thank you - they're gorgeous!"

"Great! I mean, yeah, good, I'm glad."

They catch each other's eyes and snap them away, laughing a little. Kurt feels so light he might just float up to the ceiling at any moment like _Mary Poppins_.

"I love your—" _everything_ "—bow tie, by the way," Kurt says, falling back to fashion to break the terrible, wonderful awkwardness. "It's adorable."

As is the way Blaine puffs his chest out a little and looks very pleased. "Thanks! You look amazing, as always. I've never seen that broach before."

Kurt invites Blaine in and closes the door while the shorter boy takes his shoes off and sets them next to the shoe rack. (Kurt, of course, keeps all his shoes in his room, and they're only put on the rack if they're dirty when he comes home.) They talk about Blaine's drive and their classes and homework and the Warblers while Kurt finds a vase (ignoring his dad's grin when he comes into the kitchen to grab himself a glass of water) and introduces Blaine to everyone and the boys sort out drinks and take all their refreshments upstairs. They almost get distracted by the stack of novels on Kurt's bedside table, but within half an hour, they're exchanging catty comments about the scandals of Wisteria Lane.

* * *

**End notes:** Blaine did some research and decided on pink tulips for caring; the florist said they're popular to get with yellow ones (meaning 'hopelessly in love') and Blaine thought they looked nice together so he agreed. He really hoped Kurt would like them. Oh, Blainers, you really are oblivious, aren't you?

Sorry this one didn't have much Klaine! I couldn't think of a smooth segue into Blaine staying for dinner after their marathon because of the aforementioned lack of _Housewives_ knowledge, and if I'd put in a line break I just would have kept writing even though I need to finish an essay. :( Rest assured, Blaine does stay for dinner, he gets on wonderfully with everyone, Burt keeps making little digs at Kurt's crush, and when Blaine goes home they hover awkwardly at the door for a few minutes until they give each other a too-long-to-be-friendly hug and then Kurt watches Blaine drive away and Burt tells Kurt he hopes this thing with Blaine works out and then Kurt floats up to his room and cuddles up to one of his pillows pretending it's Blaine. (If you're interested in reading this in full, let me know in a review/PM and I'll come back to this if I have time later in the week?)


	2. Day Two

**Notes:** Sorry I promised you innuendo yesterday – this ended up taking a bit of a different route than I thought it would. Still, skank!Kurt and badboy!Blaine (because you expect me to choose one?!), with **lots of swearing**, **references to drug use (marijuana)** and **mentions of Blaine/others sex**. Still, this was super fun to write!

* * *

**DAY TWO: SKANK/BADBOY AU**

_In which badboy!Blaine wants badboy!Kurt to quit smoking and then they make out._

When Kurt still hadn't arrived to French ten minutes after the late bell, Blaine was pissed. Sure, the taller boy was already fluent and taking the subject for an easy A but Blaine was shit at languages and Kurt let him copy. Plus, they hadn't suffered alone through one of their shared classes since they'd become friends, either attending or skipping together, so that Blaine was on his own in one of his most hated classes? Yeah, he wasn't happy.

Five minutes later, Kurt was definitely a no show, so Blaine shoved his notebook and stationary in his bag, swung it over his head and then left the classroom in search of his asshole best friend. The teacher tried calling him back in or threatening him with detention or something but he just flipped her off on the way out the door, and then he glared at all the kids who laughed.

There weren't many places Kurt would be, considering Blaine had seen him just two hours ago and if Kurt were going to leave school grounds during the day, he'd definitely at least text Blaine. The most likely spot was under the bleachers and, lo and behold, there he was, sitting on the bleacher scaffolding with an arm looped around one of the poles and a cigarette.

"You abandoned me in fucking French."

Kurt looked up at him, his face impassive. "I guess I lost track of time. Oops."

Blaine scowled, but the expression which struck fear into the hearts of most of the McKinley student population merely made Kurt smirk. Asshole.

"Fucking _French_, Kurt!" he repeated.

"Well, you're not in French now, are you?" Kurt took another drag of the cigarette and blew the smoke in Blaine's face.

"Shit – just, give me that," he snapped, snatching the cigarette from Kurt and stomping it out.

"What the hell, Blaine! Those things are fucking expensive!"

Kurt jumped off the bleachers and drew himself up to his full height, so that Blaine only reached up to his nose, and the two glared at each other.

"Then maybe you should stop buying them. Hell, maybe then you'd even have more money for clothes and you could stop mooching off me every time we go out!"

"Fuckin' hypocrite, you keep getting free shit from the garage to make your bike more 'bad ass' or whatever the hell. And when was the last time you paid for lunch?"

"Don't even go there, man, you can't call me a hypocrite and then rag on me when I roll a joint."

"You're fucking intolerable when you're high, jackass."

"Look, I know you don't particularly care about getting cancer or some shit but I still want my best friend around when we're old and throwing crap at Republicans from the porch of some old folks' home."

Anyone else would think that Kurt would be trying to kill them with his eyes at this point, or at the very least willing them to die, but Blaine had spent more time than he'd admit watching Kurt and figuring out the minutiae of his features so he recognised the slight softening around his eyes and mouth and the way his forehead and eyebrows straightened and smoothed out.

"Jesus, fine. I'll quit when I've finished this packet. Don't give me that look, I wasn't kidding when I said these were expensive."

Blaine rolled his eyes while Kurt pulled himself up back onto the scaffolding. It only made their height difference greater – Kurt was so high off the ground that one of his legs swung without even risking getting the toe of his boot scuffed – so Blaine hauled himself up as well. Kurt's non-swinging leg was wrapped around a vertical pole to keep him balanced. Blaine wrapped his arms around the same pole and leant into it, watching Kurt as he lit another cigarette and looked back between the gaps in the bleachers.

As much as Blaine loved when they talked, even if that 'talking' was an argument, he loved their silences equally. Most people he hung out with got bored just sitting in silence, but Kurt was always happy to just chill out with nothing to do.

It probably helped that Blaine would never get tired of looking at Kurt, and he relished in the warmth and firmness of Kurt's leg pressed against his own.

"You're starin' again," Kurt muttered, flicking his eyes to look at Blaine sideways. Blaine shrugged and smiled.

"You're a good-lookin' guy," he said. "Why wouldn't I stare?"

Kurt scoffed almost bitterly and tossed his cigarette butt on the ground.

"And yet you always leave Scandals with some other guy?"

Blaine gently swung his weight around the pole, moving closer to Kurt, who was still not looking at him. "I only ever leave with you. None of those guys are worth more than a blowjob in the bathroom."

"Why? You hoping Prince Charming'll show up in some seedy gay bar in the middle of nowhere?"

"Nah, already found him. Just always figured he's too good for me. He doesn't throw himself around like he doesn't matter, you know?"

Blaine was an opportunist and impulsive. These traits had gotten him in trouble more times than he could count, but he never would've even become friends with Kurt if it weren't for them and maybe now they'd get him something more.

Kurt finally looked at Blaine, first a quick glance as if to judge Blaine's expression and then turning his head to look fully. His eyes flickered between Blaine's, so Blaine let the full extent of his feelings show, and he grinned when Kurt slowly blushed.

"Course you matter, dumbass," he said, gently shoving Blaine's shoulder. The rebound momentum carried Blaine even closer to Kurt.

"What do you think?" Blaine said in a low voice. "Is Prince Charming too good for a floozy like me."

Kurt snorted and mouthed, 'floozy,' making Blaine laugh. "Prince Charming's too good for everyone," he said imperiously, sticking his chin up in the air, exposing his long neck. Then he grinned and slipped an arm around Blaine's shoulders and his cologne-and-smoke scent invaded Blaine's senses. "But he has a weakness for guys who have curly hair and ironically wear leather jackets four days of the week."

"Hope he doesn't find out I don't wear my jackets ironically," Blaine said, curling his hand to cup Kurt's cheek. The taller boy laughed, but Blaine surged forward to press their lips together.

Blaine had fantasised about kissing Kurt for months, basically since the first time he saw him – they ran from sweet kisses to tipsy after a night out to straight up dirty. He'd imagined how Kurt would react, whether he'd moan or sigh, and how hard he'd kiss back and how he'd taste and how soft and warm his skin would be. And still, despite all those months, and despite all his prior experience kissing not-Kurts, this was better than anything he'd imagined.

Well, except for the taste of tobacco. That was fucking awful.

Kurt whined when Blaine broke away, tried pulling him back in but Blaine wasn't going to go. He rested his forehead against Kurt's and stroked his cheek with his thumb, waiting for Kurt to open his eyes before he said, "Unless you chew some fucking gum, I'm not kissing you again."

Kurt let out a noise of mock outrage and pushed a laughing Blaine off the bleachers.

"I can't believe you ruined that!"

"Thank fuck you're quitting!" Blaine cackled, still half-dangling from the bleachers. "You taste acrid!"

Kurt shot him a glare, pushed him the rest of the way off the scaffolding so he landed on the ground with a groan, and then walked away. Blaine scrambled to his feet and chased after him.

"No, baby, wait! I have a whole pack of Juicy Fruit in my bag!"


	3. Day Three

**Notes:** I am so, so sorry I'm late for three of the days. I don't particularly want to relive it so I'll just say that the last few days of been Not Good (or Very, Very Not Good, depending on how much you like _Doctor Who_) and it just completely sucked away all motivation to write or even turn on my laptop. I've mostly spent the last few days trying to beat my best times for random games on my phone. Luckily for you (maybe?), this means you'll get four updates today! They're basically all written and I'll be publishing them each roughly three hours apart. (Definitely) lucky for you (and me), this one's longer than the others, hooray!

* * *

**DAY THREE: FAIRYTALE AU**

_In which Kurt goes on a quest and rediscovers the love of his life._

The next time Kurt saw Rachel, he was going to attach a leash to her and then tie the other end to a post in her garden like a dog – if she wasn't getting lost chasing fairies in the woods, she was apparently getting kidnapped by evil warlocks for some likely nefarious purposes. Quite honestly, Kurt suspected she just liked the attention; once again, the full council had gathered, and they were trying to figure out how to get her back. Obviously, a quest was in order, even if they were only a relatively small village and no one was Royal. The most obvious quester was Rachel's fiancé and Kurt's step-brother, Finn, but . . .

"Absolutely not!" raged Schoolmaster Schuester. "He'll get himself killed at the first obstacle!" He sent a sideways glance at Finn, who was red-cheeked and looking steadily at the floor in embarrassment. "No offense, Finn."

"But no one else is eligible," said Councilman Figgins. "It's simply inappropriate for the young people to be unchaperoned and, as the two are betrothed, it is Master Hudson's duty to rescue Miss Berry."

The of-age village members began arguing up a storm again, split fairly evenly between whether Two-Left-Feet Finn should be the one to rescue Rachel.

"They make more noise than a gaggle of geese," Kurt grumbled to Mercedes. "And make less sense."

His best friend pressed a hand over her mouth to both stifle and hide her laughter. "I think we should just let her stay gone this time – I can finally wake up later than the crack of dawn to her incessant singing."

They watched the proceedings in amusement for a few minutes more, quietly taking bets on which council member would snap first, until Kurt rolled his eyes. "Oh, spirits, this is just getting ridiculous. Wish me luck, Honey."

"Kurt, what—?"

He stood up, cutting her off, and took advantage of his and Rachel's singing practice to project over the squabbling, "I'll go."

The silence was not immediate, but the noise very quickly faded. As the entire grown population of his village stared, Kurt just kept looking at Head Councilwoman Sylvester.

"I volunteer myself to go on this quest."

"And why should we even consider it?" she asked. "You look far too delicate and pasty to last a week."

"With all due respect, Head Councilwoman, I've been hunting since I was eight years old and working on the land even longer; I have gone on several days-long excursions in the woods; there is no reason for any inappropriate activities as my preference is to other males, and Rachel and I would on many occasions find circumstances in which we'd be alone together after she marries my brother. Also," he added with a smirk, "I am one of the few men who is able to fix my own clothing should I fall into any bramble patches."

The councilwoman stared at him, and the entire hall seemed to hold its breath. Kurt's heart pounded in his throat and he resisted the urge to look away. Eventually, she nodded.

"Approved."

The village hall burst into cacophony once again. Kurt just sat down and avoided his loved ones' worried eyes.

* * *

Since they didn't know for how long Rachel would be safe (in other words, alive) and she had been taken for almost four hours by the time the meeting was over, Kurt didn't have much time to pack. While his stepmother prepared a sack of non-perishables, his stepbrother got in the way by continuously apologising and his father hovered, Kurt gathered a bag of the various items he would need on his journey.

"Now, you be careful," Carole fussed once everything was ready. "Don't get yourself killed, okay?"

Kurt had no idea how to defeat a warlock.

"I'll do my best," he promised with the confident smile he'd learnt from his childhood best friend, and he gave her a hug. Next was Finn, and then Mercedes, and she was followed by a handful more of his old school friends. Finally, he stood in front of his dad. Kurt was expecting maybe a small speech, hoping for a tip or trick for going up against a magical being; his father grabbed him in a hug and held him close as if to stop him from going.

"I love you, Son," he said. It was somehow better and more final than farewell.

"I love you too, Dad."

The council stood at the line of the forest. The villagers filled the streets behind him; some were crying, all were silent and somber as a funeral march.

Kurt squared his shoulders and didn't look back.

* * *

The first few hours felt almost like a solitary hunting trip. It was quiet but for the sounds of nature and a little boring, but the latter was easily combated by singing.

Only when night fell did Kurt feel the difference; he had never slept alone in the woods before, and because of his need to travel light, he had brought only a blanket and sleeping mat. He felt far too vulnerable in the open on his own, jerking awake at every sound, and when the sun began to rise he was barely rested at all.

Over the next two days, Kurt very quickly became tired and irritable, and as the need to ration his food grew, he became quite hungry as well.

He was given blessed hope on the fourth day of his travels when he stumbled across a man-made road. It wasn't the kind of road which supposedly surrounded the Royal City, nor cobbled like the streets in the small towns near Kurt's village; really, it was nothing more than a wide, glorified footpath, but it meant nearby civilisation nonetheless, and Kurt hurried along it with renewed jubilation.

A few hours later, he reached an inn. It was bustling, surrounded by people and horses, but Kurt's step didn't falter until he realised that the people were all armoured men and the horses were decorated with purple bird banners: they were King's Knights.

Kurt steeled himself and kept moving forward. King's Knights were the usual envoy for a travelling Royal or Noble, but there was a slight chance that they were on their way to pick someone up. At the very least, Kurt would be able to barter a hot meal.

Roughly twenty metres from the entrance, three Knights stopped Kurt's progress.

"Do you work here?" asked the Knight in the centre. Kurt replied in the negative. "Civilians are not allowed to approach the building. Alternative sleeping has been arranged."

"In case you didn't notice through those thick helmets, I have my own sleeping arrangements."

"Then continue on your journey."

"I was hoping to be allowed a hot meal, and maybe a bath. Though I don't imagine you would know anything about travelling rough," Kurt snarked, eyeing the elegant carriage and fine horses around the stables.

"We cannot grant you access to the building."

Whatever irritation had left Kurt upon the discovery of the road was now back tenfold, and it overpowered any sense of self-preservation. "I have been travelling for four days by foot and on my own. All I want is a hot bath and a delicious meal before I am undoubtedly killed rescuing my step-brother's fiancée from an evil warlock, so why don't you let me ask whichever spoilt Royal you're babysitting and—"

"Is there a problem out here?"

"No, Your Royal Highness," answered the three Knights in unison, turning and parting to reveal . . . Kurt's first best friend. He was older, taller, more muscular, (more handsome,) certainly, but it was Blaine nonetheless, and Kurt's heart raced with anger and betrayal.

"A civilian—" began one of the Knights with a gesture to Kurt which drew Blaine's attention to him. Emotions flitted over Blaine's face, too quickly to identify any, but eventually the young man stepped forward with a joyous, "Kurt!" and his arms coming forward as if to touch him.

Kurt didn't realise he'd slapped him until his hand was stinging and the Knights had forced him to the ground.

* * *

Kurt poked moodily at his dinner. The few bites he'd taken were delicious and his stomach clamoured for more but he found it difficult to enjoy sitting across the table from his old friend. Even after Kurt had slapped him, Blaine had quickly made the Knights let him up and invited him inside the inn. He'd called for the best dish to be served to both of them in his room and then for them to be undisturbed until morning and made sure Kurt was comfortable, ignoring both Kurt's difficult attitude and his own red cheek, and then they had sat in awkward silence until the food had arrived.

"Do you like it?" Blaine asked. Kurt glanced up and immediately regretted it; Blaine's face was open and earnest and hopeful, the expression far too similar to when they had first become friends when they were thirteen. "I remember how much you loved venison—"

"You abandoned me," Kurt interrupted. To his horror, his vision began to swim with tears of hurt, so he drew on the preferable anger, threw down his fork and glared at Blaine across the table. "You abandoned me and you're – what – the Crown Prince?"

"No, simply one of the lesser back ups. I'm actually third in line for the throne," Blaine tried with that damned confident smile. Kurt kept up his hateful expression until the smile wavered, and he drew his hands onto his lap when Blaine reached out for them. "Kurt," said Blaine, "I am so, so sorry. Not a day has gone by when I haven't thought about you and regretted not seeing you before I left."

"How awful for you," Kurt snapped. "How terrible that you had to return to comfort and riches while some poor, pathetic peasant pines for his only friend."

"Kurt—"

"You just disappeared!" Tears began to slip down Kurt's cheeks, though he had no idea whether they were tears of anger or sadness. "I worried for weeks until I found that stupid message in the trees, and you knew I had no one! You—" He broke off, pushing himself aggressively away from the table and pacing around the room. Blaine just watched him with red, wet eyes.

It wasn't until hours later, when their food was cold and the sun had completely set, leaving the room in almost complete darkness because no one had come to light the oil lamps, that anyone said anything again. Almost from the time the sun began its descent, Kurt had slowly stopped his furious pacing and slid down a wall. Blaine had remained still in his chair, for the most part his head bowed to hide his face, but now he stood up again and handed Kurt his blanket.

"I don't expect you to forgive me," he said in a low, rough voice. "But please, consider travelling with us from tomorrow."

"Why would I—?" began Kurt, though he was too drained now to give it much bite.

"For your friend – your brother's fiancée." Kurt looked up through his eyelashes. Blaine gave him a small, sincere smile and Kurt believed he had no ulterior motives, although Blaine had always been so earnest that Kurt would have believed him anyway; there were salt stains on his cheeks and the chest of his shirt. "I apologise for eavesdropping.

"You said she had been taken by an evil warlock?" When Kurt nodded, Blaine continued, "Two other girls in the kingdom have been kidnapped by the same man in the past few months; as the third in line, I am more expendable, so the King has charged me with the warlock's capture. Since we have the same goal, perhaps you would prefer to ride with us." Blaine swallowed heavily, flicking his eyes between Kurt's, and then even quieter he finished, "And if you would prefer also, we could lend you a horse, or I could take a horse and you ride in the carriage."

If it would have been quicker to stay by himself and travel on foot, Kurt would have rejected Blaine's offer in a heartbeat; however, he was still at least three days' walk from the rumoured home of the warlock, and Blaine hadn't said for how long Rachel would be safe.

"I will ride in the carriage," answered he after a short pause. Blaine's expression remained uncharacteristically blank; Kurt wondered what he was thinking, and then he put that thought very far out of his mind.

* * *

They reached the warlock's territory two long, painful days later. The scouts returned as night began to fall to say they had seen the warlock himself, as well as a brown-haired girl who looked alive and well. Blaine himself told Kurt, who had spent as much time as possible alone in the carriage, and Kurt had almost hugged his old friend in relief.

That night was spent strategising. Kurt sat on the edge of the circle; he didn't have much to say, having never learnt battle strategy, and he kept finding himself entranced by Blaine; the boy – the young man, since the two were both twenty now – was a charismatic and eloquent speaker, everything one would expect from a prince, even though Blaine was not the immediate heir to the throne. He had always been wonderful to listen to when they were younger but now he seemed to draw everyone under his spell.

When they all went to bed after a hearty meal of bread and salted meat and ale, Kurt struggled to fall asleep.

* * *

On the approach to the warlock's cabin, Kurt was ensconced within the second line of Knights who were entering through the front door. His task was to find Rachel and get them both to safety at the camp. Blaine was front and centre to lead the charge; the memories of their childhood closeness but nothing more made his heart flutter with worry.

When they burst through the door, Blaine and the Knights set upon the warlock, weakening him so they would be able to take him back to the Royal City but also drawing his attention so that Kurt could creep around to find Rachel. He didn't get the chance, however, because she ran into the room moments after the shouting had started and threw herself in front of the warlock.

"Stop!" she cried, arms flung out dramatically.

"Rachel!" shouted Kurt. He pushed through the Knights, who had all paused in their attack since the girl was somehow blocking all clear shots, and pulled at Rachel's arms.

"No, Kurt, stop it!" she demanded, pulling herself free from Kurt and then the warlock close to herself. She turned to face the Knights and fiercely said, "I won't let you hurt Jesse."

"Rach—"

"We're in love!" she continued over him. "Jesse was cursed by a truly evil witch named Shelby, and only True Love's Kiss could set him free. That's why he was kidnapping all those girls, because he heard them singing in the forest and he was hoping they were his True Love." She sniffed, somehow sounding superior, and a small smile formed on her face. "Of course, only I can match up his musical abilities, and I am his True Love."

"It's true," piped up the warlock – Jesse, apparently – while Kurt looked steadily at his friend.

"What about Finn?" he asked quietly. Rachel's face fell, and Kurt barrelled on, gaining momentum and volume. "What about your dads? What about me and all our friends? Were you just going to let us believe you were dead or under some warlock's spell as his slave? Did you even think about us at all, or were you happy to remain a selfish little girl? In fact, how can you even trust him to be telling the truth? It doesn't take magic to mix a love potion!"

"He's telling the truth," said one of the Knights. Kurt turned his glare on her and she shrugged. "I always knows when someone's lying to me."

Kurt flipped his hand dismissively, and then looked back round to Rachel. She had gathered herself again and was looking up at Kurt with wide, pleading eyes.

"I was expecting Finn to be the one to come find me," she said, her cheeks colouring at Kurt's snort, "and I would have told him everything then, and asked him to take a message back to the village. Do you suppose you—?"

"Don't you dare ask me to break my brother's heart for you, Rachel Berry, don't you _dare_," Kurt snarled. Rachel was so taken aback that she physically recoiled into Jesse's chest. "I will be damned to the underworld if you don't take responsibility for your own actions – and tell Finn that you're abandoning him to his face!" Rachel now began to cry in earnest and Kurt was dimly aware that they had an audience, and a small part of him hoped Blaine was still in the room. "If your warlock doesn't have a way to magic us back to the village then I'm expecting you ready to leave in one hour."

He strode from the cottage, ignoring the impressed looks of the Knights, Rachel's distraught expression and Blaine's slowly breaking facade of control.

* * *

Blaine sat down next to him on the forest floor, following his lead by looking straight ahead. Kurt almost protested on the prince's trousers' behalf but the fire of his anger had burnt out and now he was left with ash and smoke instead of a heart and he didn't have the energy to care.

"When I was a young boy," spoke Blaine, "my siblings and I weren't very close so I played with the children of the palace servants. I thought of them as friends but I quickly realised that, so that neither they nor their parents would be punished, they always let me choose what we did and win games. It was easier after I began my lessons and learnt how to read books and play music but it was still incredibly lonely. Music, especially, helped me to cope and feel less isolated.

"However, when I was twelve, I was told that I had to begin preparing to be accepted as a member of the Court, and it quickly became too much for me: so I ran away. I went for weeks travelling between villages and towns. I wanted to get as far away from the Royal City as I could, in the hope that the farther I was, the lower the odds that someone would recognise me as a prince. And then, one day, I stumbled across a boy the same age as I crying in the forest."

Kurt's breath hitched. From the corner of his eye, he saw Blaine turn his body towards him though his face was turned down to Kurt's shoulder.

"He didn't know who I was; he just treated me like I was like anyone else. We became friends. We became _best_ friends. In a matter of weeks, he came to know me better than I knew myself, and I for him." Blaine hesitated, and then he said, "Within the season, I realised I had fallen in love."

Kurt gasped and snapped his head round before he could control himself. At some point, Blaine had raised his head, and now watering eyes met.

Blaine continued as if mindless to his wavering voice, "I had also begun to hear rumours of the King's Knights searching for me and I was beginning to feel guilty for leaving my family and my duty, but I loved this boy more than anything else so I began making plans to reveal my affections and get my father to call off the search.

"I had everything figured out, but then they found me. They were under orders from the King to bring me straight back home so I couldn't convince them to let me say goodbye, and I have wished every day since then that I had fought harder."

They stared at each other, Blaine waiting for a reaction and Kurt not knowing which one to go with; he could barely think past _I had fallen in love_ let alone put his own thoughts and feelings in any sensible order, and he gave up on holding back his tears.

"Kurt, please say something," whispered Blaine eventually.

Kurt swallowed, darting his eyes over Blaine's face and to his shoulders and back to his eyes. "I think," he said, trying for some semblance of voice control, "that your leaving would not have been so hurtful had I not been in love with you."

Blaine threw himself at Kurt in a tight hug as they cried the last of their tears over this pain, and that was where Rachel found them at the end of her given hour.

* * *

Kurt returned to the village successful in his quest, and the council hastened to throw the largest celebration the people had ever seen when they realised that Kurt had also brought along with him a prince and an envoy of King's Knights. Everyone pretended not to notice that neither Rachel nor Finn attended, despite the former being an apparent guest of honour. Kurt and Blaine kept to themselves as much as possible through the evening and redirected those in search of tales to the Knights who were happy to embellish the rather boring tale.

"So you're the reason my son was so happy those years ago," said Burt when the people began returning to their homes and they had some privacy; the Knights were lodging at the mostly unused inn while Blaine had accepted Kurt's offer to stay with his family. "And you're a prince."

"Yes, sir," answered Blaine, "on both accounts."

Burt snorted, although Kurt could see how startled he was. "There's no need to be calling me 'sir', Your – uh, Blaine. Not if we're gonna be family."

Both young men turned red and smiled shyly at each other, and Burt laughed and clapped them both on the shoulders and let them retire to Kurt's bedroom without a fuss, where they whispered love into each other's skin to the sounds of the dying celebrations.

That wasn't the end of the story; they went on to have many more adventures, and their own True Love's Kiss, and a fair number of everyfolk problems.

But they lived happily ever after, and that was all the mattered in the end.

* * *

**End notes:** A bit of an anti-climax? Perhaps. Did the background St. Berry/mushy happy Klaine ending help? (The correct answer here is 'yes and Sarah please let me worship you' but I digress.)

I tried to make Blaine come across as more formal after the failed peace-offering-venison so, just to satisfy me, how'd you think I do? My intention was that imply that Blaine was both trying to control his emotions and not make Kurt feel pressure or anything but (a) the general style of this is a bit more formal than I would usually use, and (b) I actually sort of talk like this myself. In real life. Out loud. So you can imagine it can be a bit hard to judge, haha. So yeah, let me know? :)


	4. Day Four

**DAY FOUR: NAUGHTY + NICE**

_In which Kurt and Blaine try foodplay._

"Kurt, stop squirming," Blaine laughs as he dips the brush back into the pot of chocolate paint.

"It tickles," his fiancé says breathily, "and you know how sensitive my skin is."

"I most certainly do," Blaine growls, biting gently at the skin on Kurt's rib while he brushes the chocolate from Kurt's belly button to the top of his neatly trimmed pubic hair. Kurt whines, and Blaine can't resist spending a few more seconds to develop a light hickey.

"Oh god Blaine you have to take your mouth off me otherwise this'll be over really really soon," Kurt says in one breath. Blaine laughs and sits up, straddling one of Kurt's thighs. He ignores both of their erections and the heaviness of Kurt's breath, and focuses on using Kurt's body as a canvas.

He leans his body forward, putting down one hand for balance as he strokes random shapes and patterns down Kurt's neck; his fiancé gasps when he brushes over the sensitive spot on his collarbone and the marks already dotting his body, moans when Blaine coats his nipple and areola and makes them the centre of a milky way galaxy shape.

"I'm starting to feel sticky," Kurt huffs.

"I'm almost done," Blaine replies. He dips the brush in the chocolate once more and draws a lopsided heart on the left side of Kurt's chest, probably not where Kurt's actual heart is but Blaine hasn't taken a science class since his freshman year of college. Inside the heart, he carefully writes a 'B', and then puts the lid back on the chocolate pot and puts both that and the brush on the bedside table. When he settles back on his thighs, Kurt has his hand below the newest addition and is looking up at Blaine with love shining from his every pore.

"You have my heart," Blaine says, leaning down to kiss the love of his life. Kurt rests his hand on the back of Blaine's neck, and then he reaches up to trace a heart on Blaine's chest.

When the kiss changes from sweet to heated once again, Blaine kisses across Kurt's jaw and then sucks down his neck, replacing chocolate with pink marks. He laps heavily at Kurt's galaxy-patterned nipple and tugs at it between his teeth, and Kurt chokes out half a dozen half-formed words before pushing Blaine onto his back and rolling his hips down. They kiss deep and dirty, grabbing at each other's bodies, and then Kurt growls, "Fuck, you taste delicious," his voice deep and rough and ragged.

"It's all you," Blaine pants.

After they've both come, they lie with their limbs sprawled over each other, content to be covered with semen and chocolate while they bask in the afterglow of orgasms, until finally Kurt forces himself upright and pulls at Blaine's arm. "Alright, up, you, I'm starting to feel gross."

Blaine whines and pouts, "Noooo, I'm comfy. Stay with me."

Kurt laughs, a little breathlessly. "Ohhh, no. No, we need to shower. Remember when we waited after the syrup, we felt sticky for three days afterwards?"

"You've convinced me," Blaine says, and then he reaches up and makes grabby hands at Kurt. "Help me up, darling husband-to-be?"

Kurt rolls his eyes but acquiesces, a small smile on his face. "That's gonna stop working soon."

"If you say so," Blaine hums happily, kissing the only-slightly-smudged 'B' in the heart on Kurt's chest and then Kurt's lips. He murmurs against them, "Maybe we could try that new mint shower gel, hmm?"

* * *

**End notes:** Ugh, how do you smut. As always, I'm a bit worried about my execution of writing sex so any feeback (positive or constructive) is most welcome. :) Anyway, that's why it's so short: because I fail at PWP. But there's chocolate involved! Yay! :D


	5. Day Five

**Notes:** Just a short one for this theme, lovelies, partly because I'm short on time and partly because I'm feeling a little uninspired. Also, because so many people did 'what Klaine are up to this year on their non-anniversary' which is supremely bittersweet, I've gone in a more . . . hopefully amusing, potentially semi-cracky direction. But still well within the canon universe.

* * *

**DAY FIVE: ANNIVERSARY**

_In which Kurt and Blaine celebrate a sort-of-but-not-really anniversary. In a way._

Blaine wakes to Kurt kissing and licking down his chest.

"Morning," Kurt mumbles against the bottom of Blaine's ribs, right where he's the most ticklish, and Blaine can't help but squirm and whine. He whines again when Kurt makes no hints at going any lower than his belly button, a pathetic, 'quit teasing'. Kurt chuckles. "Did you know," he says in between bites down Blaine's happy trail, "that it has been exactly six years since I first saw you shirtless?"

"You remember that?" Blaine chokes out with a laugh.

Kurt grins ferally, toying with the ties on Blaine's pyjama pants. "I remember every date of when I first saw each," a tug, "new," pulling the pants down to mid-thigh, "bit of you." His eyes still twinkling, Kurt licks at the frenulum and the head of Blaine's dick and then sinks down, going slow to allow his throat to adjust.

"Happy anniversary," Blaine quips, and Kurt makes a noise which vibrates around him and he loses himself in the sensations.

* * *

Afterwards, when they're soft again and showered and dressed and they've tangled their feet under the kitchen table, Blaine steals a bite of Kurt's oatmeal and asks, "Has it really been six years since you first saw me shirtless?"

Kurt snorts inelegantly, and Blaine always falls in love with him a bit more when he forgets about his inhibitions. "Dummy. No, that was before we started dating. I was early to gym and you were getting changed. Of course, I went bright red and ran away to hide in a bathroom stall until I was sure you were gone."

Blaine grins to himself, still amazed he somehow managed to catch and keep Kurt's attentions for so long. "So you weren't kidding about remembering _all my bits_," he teases, stealing more oatmeal. Kurt rolls his eyes – to both things, probably – though his cheeks still turn a bit pink.

"Today is an anniversary, though," he says quietly instead.

Blaine hums, resting his head on his hand to smile at Kurt serenely and receive a smile in return, and they pause breakfast to hold hands across the table.

It's six years to the day that Pavarotti died and Kurt strode into the Warbler rehearsal room and stole the spotlight and sang the bird a eulogy and made Blaine open his eyes. In three days, they'll be celebrating the day of their first kiss and the day they got engaged.

Six years down, a lifetime to go.

* * *

**End notes:** So yeah, this was _originally_ going to be a bunch of short scenes where the boys celebrate anniversaries for increasingly dumb and mundane things and eventually just making shit up to have to excuse to treat each other and their friends looking on in astonishment and ridicule (depending on the friend). Oh well. You did get some more smut though.

(Also is 'happy trail' a term people actually use? I couldn't think of anything to call it except for 'trail leading down his abdomen' but that made the sentence sound weird so I went with the term that made me laugh instead.)

(Smut is so ridiculous oh my god.)

Happy anniversary! :D


	6. Day Six

**Notes:** I have never put any thought into daddy!Klaine so I'm just using random names that pop into my head and the standard 'Dad' and 'Papa' for Kurt and Blaine respectively.

Other than that I AM SO SORRY for not putting these up when I was supposed to. I watched AVPSY and was useless for the rest of the weekend so I read a lot of sub!Blaine/dom!Kurt fics and then I got distracted writing PWP. But hey, at least you get a rapid-fire double-update today and it's finally finished, right?

* * *

**DAY SIX: WEDDING**

_In which Kurt tries not to take over planning his daughter's wedding._

When Kurt and Blaine arrive at their daughter and soon-to-be-son-in-law's house, Kurt's eyes immediately zone in on the pile of wedding magazines and scrapbooks spread across the kitchen table.

Blaine rests a hand on Kurt's forearm and gently guides his husband to the living room. Kurt gives him a look which he's hoping portrays his dissatisfaction on not being able to jump into wedding talk right away; Blaine responds with a guileless smile, but Kurt can see the mischievous tilt to his eyebrows.

But this isn't a wedding-planning visit. In fact, Lily and Julian want to do as much planning by themselves, even though Kurt used to be a freelance wedding planner for the low budget between interior decorating and teaching English.

No, this is just a fun, fathers-daughter bonding time, hanging out because their daughter is an adult and engaged and going to be married in eight months and if parent and child can't be friends now, well, when can they be?

"So how's the planning coming along?" Kurt eventually allows himself to ask. Blaine and Lily roll their eyes and he bites back a sarcastic retort; he held back for thirty-seven minutes, surely that requires some kind of reward. Julian smiles excitedly, somehow still not having picked up that Kurt is a massive control freak.

"Fine, Dad," Lily says shortly. "It's all under control, it's well within budget, and I remember everything you and Papa have ever taught me about colour schemes and how to tell if someone's trying to rip us off." And then she deftly changes the subject to when is Papa going to retire anyway, isn't he getting a bit old to be the principal of an elementary school? and they somehow don't revisit the topic of weddings or honeymoons or what kind of cake is best for the rest of the visit.

Cheeky girl. She learnt that from her Papa.

* * *

Kurt and Lily are having a shopping day – just a normal shopping spree, it's how Kurt managed to keep his daughter respectful of her parents during her rebellious teenage phase, although Blaine insists that she wasn't actually all that rebellious. Except Kurt's been married to Blaine for almost thirty years and dating him for just under thirty-four so he's picked up a few of Blaine's charming manipulation tricks too, so they end up window shopping for outfits for the wedding party and talking about potential centre pieces.

"It's a good colour scheme you're going for," Kurt says, "not the best of course, perfect would be wine, or maybe burgundy, although taking Julian's colouring into account maybe a darker green, except you don't want it to look like Christmas – no, honey, you'll want the Maid of Honour's dress to fit the theme but look somewhat unique—"

"Dad. My wedding. My decisions. I've already told you I don't want you butting in, okay, so can you just back off?"

"Fine," Kurt huffs, and the rest of their trip passes quickly and with an awkward, cloudy atmosphere.

* * *

"Our daughter hates me," Kurt whines that night, not even caring about sounding petulant as he curls up against Blaine's stomach and his husband pets through his hair.

"Aw, honey, she doesn't hate you," Blaine coos. "But she is a grown woman who can make her own decisions."

"Exactly!" Kurt exclaims. "She's grown up! She doesn't need us to decide stuff!"

Blaine eyes soften and he pulls Kurt up to rest in his arms properly. They lie on their sides, facing each other on the pillow.

"Is that really what this is about?" he asks. "I thought we already went through this with both her graduations and when we realised how serious she was about Julian?"

Kurt sniffs and answers, "But she was still a Hummel-Anderson then."

"She'll still be our daughter." Blaine kisses his forehead and smiles that quirky, easy smile which pulls up more at the left corner of his mouth than the right, the same smile as when he first claimed a high school a cappella show choir were rock stars, and it makes Kurt's heart flip just the same as it always has. "Have you told her about this?"

Kurt sighs, deep and long-suffering. "What's the use? She's seen my crying about her growing up far too many times by now, it'll be like the boy who cries wolf, except I'll just be the boy who cries. And what could she do about it, _not_ marry the love of her life?"

"That would be horrific. Unimaginable."

"Exactly."

They smile at each other across inches of pillow.

"I still think you should tell her," Blaine says. Kurt sighs again.

"I'll think about it."

"Good. Goodnight, my love."

* * *

_. . . By the power invested in me, I pronounce you man and wife._

Blaine has at least three handkerchiefs hidden about his person.

Kurt is the first to engulf the newly married couple in a hug and officially welcome Julian to the family.


	7. Day Seven

**DAY SEVEN: REUNION**

_In which Blaine reunites with Kurt in the afterlife._

Three weeks, two days, sixteen hours and forty-seven minutes after his husband, Blaine Hummel-Anderson dies. His death certificate says 'stress-induced cardiomyopathy'; his children say it's a broken heart. They mean the same thing.

Blaine doesn't know any of this. He doesn't remember any of this: he just remembers lying in bed and thinking of Kurt while waiting for sleep to take him. When he opens his eyes again, he is upright, naked, without any of the physical aches of old age, and surrounded by a disorienting nothingness. There is no ground or horizon, even though he can feel he's standing on something, and truth be told he's not even entirely sure he is, in fact, upright.

"Hello?" he calls just in case. He's not surprised that no one answers back. "What am I supposed to do?" he asks anyway. Although, in past three weeks, two days, sixteen hours and forty-seven minutes, he has developed a habit of talking aloud when he would usually have talked to Kurt because otherwise the air is still silent and still. Or was too silent and still. He's fairly figured out he's dead, but the whole afterlife business seems fairly pointless if he's just going to hang around in an indescribable nothingness for the rest of eternity. He takes an experimental step and, although literally nothing about his surroundings change, he definitely feels like he's moving forward, so he keeps going. Occasionally, he'll sing, or say something out loud.

Suddenly, he hits a wall. Not literally, but it's very close; his eyes cross automatically there's that little distance between the wall and his nose. He can't stop a surprised little exclamation of, "Oh!" He blinks a few times to let his eyes adjust but doesn't dare to step back in case he ends up in the nothingness again.

The wall is taller than Blaine can see and made of large, rusty red bricks, so similar to the bricks of the old firehouse Blaine grew up next to. He reaches out a hand; it even has the same rough, crumbly texture.

"Mate, you're not gonna get anywhere by staring at the wall," someone calls. Blaine looks – mostly because he hadn't even realised he's not alone, but also because he doesn't think many people would just stand around stroking a wall – and sees a man. He has a beard, a white robe of sorts, bare feet, and somehow he's the second most beautiful man Blaine's ever seen. (The first is his – late? should he still say that when he, too, is dead? – husband.) There are also quite a lot of other people of all ages, some of them milling around as if waiting, some obviously in despair and quite unwilling to accept their non-life status, but most walking through the impressive pearl Gothic gates.

Blaine snorts. "Is this Heaven?" he asks giddily.

The man shrugs. "Sure, whatever you wanna call it. Heaven's only been around for a couple millennia but this is the afterlife. Or, like, the cool one anyway, but only the actual nasty folk end up in punishment . . ."

"I'm sorry to interrupt," Blaine says unapologetically, "but do you know where I'd be able to find a Kurt Hummel-Anderson?"

The man grins. "You're Blaine? Yeah, man's been waiting for you! He's a rad guy. Wouldn't go in without you."

"Of course I wouldn't," says Kurt, and Blaine doesn't even need to turn around to know it's him, even though his voice sounds younger, like the days from their wedding video, which Blaine knows because he's watched it an uncountable number of times in the last three weeks.

So Blaine is utterly unsurprised when he turns around and Kurt, looking like he's in his mid- to late twenties, is standing behind him, looking at him with such longing and love that it takes Blaine's breath away.

"Kurt," he breathes, and then, stupidly, "Still an atheist?"

Luckily for Blaine, Kurt's missed him too much to do more than roll his eyes good-naturedly and pull him into a crushing hug, and Blaine holds him back as tightly as his frail limbs will allow, the weight of three weeks of grief suddenly crashing down on him, and he begins to cry and gasp out _I missed you so much_ and _I am so in love with you_ and broken _Kurt_s.

When they finally stop clinging to each other, the man – angel? Blaine still doesn't have a clear answer on anything – has left them their privacy. Blaine asks how Kurt looks so young and Kurt answers, and then they're both twenty-six again, and with his youth restored and Kurt by his side until the end of time itself, Blaine has never felt so alive.

"Come on, Dad and Carole will be ecstatic to see us," Kurt says. They tangle their hands together but stay as close as physically possible without tripping over each other.

"Maybe we'll find everyone else too," Blaine says. He adds gently, "And maybe your mom?"

Kurt's eyes swim with tears, but his smile is blinding. Yeah, that man/possible angel has nothing on this man. "And maybe my mom," he says, voice shaking. "I love you so much."

Blaine smiles and stretches up to kiss his husband. "I love you too."

* * *

**End notes:** It seems to be a fandom-wide consensus that when they get married they change their surname to 'Hummel-Anderson'. Or Blaine's parents suck so much that Blaine just ditches the 'Anderson' and rightfully becomes one of the kickass Hummel men. (No, seriously, I legitimately cannot think of any married!Klaine fics where they're both Anderson-Hummels, and the only time I can think of them both being Andersons is when I messed up marrying my Klaine Sims and pressed 'confirm' before I changed their surname.) (I just tried saying 'Anderson-Hummel' out loud and it either clunks a bit on my tongue or I spontaneously develop a Cockney accent. Hmm...)

I DON'T KNOW WHAT HAPPENED WITH... THE ANGEL? HONESTLY, I SWEAR, I JUST NEEDED TO STOP BLAINE GROPING THE WALL AND THEN THE FELLOW JUST KEPT TALKING AND HE TALKS LIKE HE TALKS BECAUSE HE'S NOT ENTIRELY UP TO DATE WITH THE LINGO BEING THE GUARDIAN OF THE GATE TO THE AFTERLIFE OKAY? Okay.

And DID YOU SEE. DID YOU SEE THE COME WHAT MAY AT THE END THERE. DID YOU SEE THAT I DID THAT. COME. WHAT. MAY. #klaine is endgame (Also 'the end of time itself' may or may not be a Doctor Who quote. Maybe.)

Despite how much I obviously failed to be on time, I've had so much fun writing these, and I want to thank everyone who's favourited, followed, reviewed and/or read this. It's been amazing and I'm so grateful for every last one of you. :)

* * *

**The theme/tracing-of-the-Klaine that I talked about in the opening notes for Day** **One** so you can go there if you need the reminder**:**

_Day One: Early Klaine._ Well, this one was about their friendship, and 'lol platonic Klaine' which is always pretty funny.  
_Day Two: Skank/Badboy AU._ Hehehe, this one was so much fun. I've already written most of how this version of the boys met and that'll hopefully be up sometime in the next week. In this one, it traced through them getting together (and Blaine being the one to mostly initiate the first kiss even though Kurt has him wrapped around his finger).  
_Day Three: Fairytale AU._ This was both Kurt and Blaine falling in love and also my Klaine Week 2013 response to 4.04, where Blaine arguably messes up more (although in this neither of them is really at fault) but they're inevitably drawn together in the end.  
_Day Four: Naughty+Nice._ They have sex and it's kinky and sweet and hot and adorable.  
_Day Five: Anniversary._ Again, a fairly obvious one, although did you notice how they're now fiances? ;)  
_Day Six: Wedding._ They get married, grow up, get a house, have kids, and so many wedding anniversaries Kurt's lost count.  
_Day Seven: Reunion._ They stay together for the rest of their lives. "I will love you/Until the end of time."

Thank you for indulging me, and I hope you all have great weeks. :)


End file.
